


Morning After

by sallyamongpoison



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, fluff before the angst before the fluff, fluffy fluff, hangovers, written for friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyamongpoison/pseuds/sallyamongpoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian drank too much the night before and Cullen can only be amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning After

A low groan beside him was what woke Cullen from his, admittedly light, slumber. One eye opened, and he took in a deep breath as he watched Dorian swing his legs over the side of the bed and put his head between his knees. The other man hadn’t been in bed very long, from what he could remember of Dorian clamoring up the ladder and falling rather dramatically beside him sometime well after Cullen had called it a night. For him to have beat Dorian to sleep probably meant that things had gotten a bit out of control.

One large, warm hand reached out and Cullen rested it on the mage’s back before he started up what he hoped a was a soothing circular motion, “Are you alright?” he asked, voice a bit thick from sleep, and he cleared his throat, “not going to be sick on the floor, I hope.”

There was a subtle change in Dorian’s posture for that as both of his still bejeweled hands clamped over his ears, “Shh!” the mage hissed, then let out a little whimper, “how are you speaking so loudly already? It’s bad enough that you refuse to fix this roof so the sun comes in at all hours, and now you’re _yelling_.”

Of course. That was a fitting punishment, considering what fresh hell Dorian put his body through the night before. Cullen sat up a bit more and gently tugged the slightly smaller man back into bed so he could be under the blankets. With such prompting, Dorian moved easily and let himself be tucked in against Cullen’s pale chest and the Templar had to fight the urge to snicker a little at how decidedly _green_ his lover looked about the gills. The hand that had been on his back smoothed down Dorian’s arm, and Cullen leaned in to press a kiss to soft hair that was sticking slightly to a sweaty brow.

“I’m dying,” Dorian whined as he curled into Cullen’s chest to block out the sun, “I’m dying and you’re going to mourn me for years.”

Again, Cullen had to fight the urge to laugh, and he set to tucking them both back under the heavy blankets. There had been a celebration at the tavern the night before with Bull and the Chargers. Something about a dragon, and while Cullen typically elected to stay out of it Dorian rather liked spending an evening trying to pretend he could match The Iron Bull drink for drink. It never ended well.

“You’re not dying,” the Commander stated softly, though his tone was deadpan, “and if you’re going to be sick, please tell me first. We don’t need a repeat of the last time.”

Dorian whined in response for that and tossed an arm across Cullen’s strong torso. Normally he wasn’t the type to want to be coddled when he felt bad, but hangovers were a whole different animal. More than that, before Cullen there had never been anyone who actually offered to make him feel better. The only problem was that Cullen was entirely too pragmatic to go along with his dramatics when he wanted him to. “Can’t you indulge a dying man for once?” he asked, and slowly opened one bloodshot eye. What sleep he’d gotten had been plagued by drunkenness in the Fade, which was always awful.

At that, Cullen just smiled affectionately and kissed Dorian’s forehead again. He started up a gentle massage through that soft, dark hair, and Dorian groaned happily when he felt Cullen’s fingertips and just the nub of fingernails scratching his aching scalp. The Commander knew him entirely too well, when he felt like shit, and this was certainly no different. For Cullen, he rather liked how happy it seemed to make Dorian, so he let his hands tangle in that hair for a long while until the mage was softly snoring into the side of his chest.

It was still early yet, and most everyone would have been at that celebration the night before. The odds of anyone being awake and coherent probably wouldn’t be good for hours, so Cullen dozed beside Dorian for a while longer before he left him to sleep it off up in the loft.

Hours later, well past noon, Cullen looked up from his paperwork as the telltale sound of Dorian rolling about in bed above him hit his ears. He waited, not calling out just yet, and signed his name on yet another missive before he put the pen down and made his way back up to his bedchamber. In bed, completely wrapped in blankets, Dorian squinted at him as Cullen summited the ladder and came closer.

“You left me,” he stated, that whine from the morning mostly gone as stared up at Cullen with the most unimpressed look he could muster for how his face was still clammy and a bit pale.

“You were sleeping,” Cullen replied, and turned to pour a glass of water from the jug he kept to hold out to Dorian, “drink. I’ll send for some food in a bit. Everyone’s a bit poorly today, it seems.” He took a seat on the bed beside Dorian, which only made his amused smile grow for just how well the other man had managed to completely wrap himself in the blankets.

The mage took the glass appreciatively and downed it in a few gulps. Water first thing was not his favorite, but his mouth felt and tasted like he’d been trying to eat the feather pillow he’d slept on. Perhaps he had. “What are you doing?” Dorian asked more gently, and after a bit of struggle pulled a hand out from where it was trapped under the blankets to thread his fingers with Cullen’s.

He shook his head, “Nothing terribly important,” and squeezed the hand in his own, “signing things. I figured if everyone else was hungover I’d get a bit of peace to finish everything I already have before more piles up.”

“Smart man,” Dorian replied flatly as he sat up. For how he’d been sleeping his hair stuck up in a hundred different directions. It was such the change from how normally well groomed and polished he looked, and Cullen absolutely adored it. It had taken some time before Dorian let him see the man who wasn’t perfectly oiled and elegant all the time, and every instance Cullen was treated to was a cause for enjoyment. As it was, Dorian offered a tired smile and leaned forward to rest his head on Cullen’s shoulder with his nose pressed in against that fur mantle that he complained about so often.

Cullen’s other hand lifted and he ran his fingers along Dorian’s back, “Does your head still hurt?” he asked gently, and chuckled a bit for the emphatic nod he got in reply, “alright. Get cleaned up and I’ll go down to find us something to eat. We’ll fix the bed later.”

The mage sighed in affirmation and lifted his head so he could press a soft kiss to Cullen’s cheek, “just...no wine. If I never see another glass of wine again it’ll be too soon.” he complained, which earned an actual laugh from Cullen as the Commander got to his feet.

“I believe you’ve said that every time this happens,” he pointed out with a rather smug looking grin, “in various stages of sickness, as I recall. I don’t even believe you anymore.” With that, he took his leave to see if there was anything left of lunch from the kitchen. If history told him anything, it was going to be a long afternoon.


End file.
